


eyes wide shut

by Anonymous



Series: the home boys [3]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Developing Relationship, M/M, Predictions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-04 17:56:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10996005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Sidney got used to living things twice, of knowing things that no one else knew, of seeing the future. So, the feeling of surprise was a foreign language to him, an unknown country on his map.or ten times someone got a prediction from Sidney and one time the universe surprised him.





	eyes wide shut

**Author's Note:**

> may i say this was the most fun i ever had in my life when it comes to writing something. this is also the fastest and longest thing i have written to date. funny how my brain works. **also** , the title has nothing to do with Kubrick's 1999 film, i just really like how it sounds. 
> 
> anyway, hope you enjoy reading this as much as i did writing it!!

Sidney was born on a cold, rainy day in August.

It was going to be sunny that week, the weather man said. They all saw it on the papers and on the news, but as soon as the contractions started, the clouds decided to make an appearance and the rain followed not so far behind.

The birth was easy, to the point of being scary. Trina and Troy had been expecting him excitedly, as any parent would when it comes to their first born son. They had been waiting for a crying child, pink and small, with clenched fists and closed eyes. Yet, their son cried for a moment before falling in silence. The only noises on the room were the doctors and nurses’ quiet talk and the questions of the worried parents, who wondered if something was wrong.

Sidney was born on a cold, windy day in August, wide eyed and silent, observing everything around him.

 

x

 

Sidney was different and Trina knew.

It’s a thought that most parents have, that their child is the smartest or is special and, in some way, they really are. Sidney was just an unusual case. His baby eyes would follow things that weren’t there, as if he was observing much more than what was really happening in front of him. He would be so quiet, such an easy child, that Trina wasn’t sure if she should be worried. But she would forget it, whenever Sidney would smile at her and babble about his day at school.

Sidney was different and Troy knew because he saw something: their kid could play hockey.

Maybe it was his eyes and the way they could follow the puck so easily. Even if it wasn’t that, Sidney was so much more: he had raw talent and an ambition that pushed him to be the best. Troy brushed the oddness, thinking it was maybe only a phase and hockey would make it go away.

They brushed until they couldn’t ignore it.

It was a good day outside so the kitchen windows were open, summer breeze coming in and moving the curtains. Trina was washing the dishes. She could hear Sidney playing in the driveway, quick steps and stick hitting the asphalt over and over again.

It was soothing until it wasn’t.

She heard the sounds stop and, after turning the faucet off, Trina realised that a weird silence had fallen around the house. The breeze wasn’t even blowing anymore. Panic bubbled on her chest when she looked out of the window and didn’t see Sidney anywhere.

“Sidney?” She called as she made her way outside, worry slipping into her words. He wasn’t in the driveway but his stick and puck were and, after going to the sidewalk and looking around, she found him: Sidney was staring up at the sky at the end of their street, observing some birds flying away. She walked over quickly before kneeling in front of him and her hands brushed his shoulder lovingly, wanting to get his attention. Sidney fixed his eyes on her and she saw the eyes of his nine year old son looking at her but at the same time, not seeing her. “Sidney, don’t scare me like that.”

“Mom,” he started, his voice so far away, so distant –it scared her. “I’ll take care of her, I promise.”

She blinked and her hands found themselves on his hair, caressing it carefully. “You’re taking care of whom?”

“ _Her_ ,” he answered again, his brown knitted in a frown as if he wondered why she didn’t know. He blinked a few times, looked back up at the sky and ran back to the house, picking up his stick and going back to playing, as if nothing ever happened.

When Trina tried to explain her husband what had happened, he didn’t really believe her.

When Trina told her husband that she was pregnant once again, he dismissed that had anything to do with Sidney’s strange prediction.

When Trina gave birth to Taylor on a sunny day in March, saw how his son held her and looked at her with a knowing smile, he believed everything.

 

x

 

Sidney never mentioned _that_ to anyone.

It took him time to get used to seeing and feeling things that weren’t there but would be, eventually. It wasn’t always the same: sometimes, it was the ghost feeling or an image burnt in the back of his mind and, sometimes, visions would come to him, snippets flying through his eyes.

It always left him with the raw emotion of the moment and the knowledge of the future.

At first, Sidney thought that these visions were only a possibility of the future, of what could happen, and he waited for the day they were wrong. But that never happened.

The visions were never wrong.

Back at home, he didn’t trust anyone besides his parents and his sister. He tried once, trusting the secret to people he used to call friends, but the calls from the bleachers seemed louder than before and the bruises that other players left were even darker.

So, when he went abroad, he promised himself that he wouldn’t say a thing.

And, well, Jack Johnson seemed to be an exception to the rule.

Sidney knew he was going to meet him, he knew there was going to be a story with this boy that had the goofiest smile Sidney had seen in his life. He knew Jack was going to be many of his firsts.

Jack quickly became his friend and, even when they were a few weeks into being roommates, classmates and teammates, he defended Sidney with teeth and nails. Whoever wanted to mess with Sidney, verbally or physically, would have to go against Jack first. He also became Sidney’s ridiculous first crush, leaving him with butterflies on his chest and making him giggle stupidly at the awful jokes he used to tell.

Months after they met, Sidney started spacing out. There was feeling of pain on his lip, as if it was busted, along with the image of Jack with a black eye haunting his brain. It caught Jack’s attention more than once. “Everything’s okay?” He questioned him, after class, his hand on Sidney’s nape. “Is there something wrong?” Sidney just shrugged.

“Why did you do it?” and with that, Jack’s eyebrows went up in surprise and confusion.

“Do what, kid?” Jack replied. Sidney shrugged again and then bumped into him, saying that he was only a few months older.

After they fought the baseball team and they were back in their room, Jack looked at him with doubt in his eyes. Well, with his eye. He had been holding a cold water bottle to the black eye he had gotten from the pitcher. Sidney was getting quite restless under his friend’s sight, so he asked what was on his mind. “Why did you do it? You don’t have to go into trouble because of me” and for Sidney, it was the truth.  He knew people disliked him, it wasn’t a new thing and it wasn’t going to go away anytime soon. Something told him it was going to be a constant throughout his life.

Jack took the water bottle away from his eye and Sidney flinched. “Sid, you’ve done nothing wrong. People are stupid and you kind of deserve someone to have your back.” He shot him a toothy smile. “I’m here, so why not me?”

Sidney’s heart flew to the moon and back, before smiling warmly to Jack. “Thank you.”

A few days later, Sidney’s lips had a tingly sensation lingering on them and the feeling of euphoria overcame him at strange times. If Jack thought Sidney was acting strange before the fight, this was the cherry on top.

One night after a home game, Jack brought it up. They had been lying in Jack’s bed in the early morning hours, adrenaline still pumping after a gorgeous win, and Sidney could feel himself pressing against Jack, skin and clothes besides him. “You’re acting weird.”

“I’m weird,” Sidney tried to play it off. “You’ve said it yourself.”

Then Jack got up, resting on his elbow, and Sidney felt himself shivering because Jack was _so close._ “That’s not what I mean. Shit, I don’t know, is something troubling you? Are you okay, Sid? You know I care about you.”

“I’m good,” he replied quietly, his eyes went to Jack’s lips before looking back at him. “I really am.”

Jack was his first kiss. Sidney wasn’t Jack’s and he knew. It was painfully obvious as Jack took control, pressing his lips and moving slowly, feeling Sidney’s hesitation. For the first time in a long time, Sidney lost the sense of time in a good way. He just felt. When they moved away, Sidney didn’t remember his hand going to Jack’s waist, fingers touching his skin under his thin shirt, and he didn’t remember Jack’s finger’s caressing his jaw.

“Did we just do that?” Jack asked and Sidney broke out in a loud laugh. His best friend did, too, his head pressing into Sidney’s shoulder, laughing along.

Morning light was already slipping through the window when Sidney called Jack’s name gently. “Can I tell you something?” Jack looked at him, fingers playing with Sidney’s curly hair. “Promise you won’t hate after this.”

Jack furrowed his brow and nodded. “Promise.”

And as easy as that, Sidney’s well-kept secret ran out of his mouth and words came out before he could regret saying any of this. He just told Jack everything: the visions, the phantom feelings, the knowing, the _future._ Sidney finished and they sat in an awkward silence for a moment, before Jack said anything.

“You’re really weird, Sid,” and he smiled, shaking his head. “Weird but cool.”

Sidney laughed and Jack noticed how relief washed over him.

Jack was the first of many firsts, but things had to change.

Sidney went to the QMJHL and Jack stayed. He would be lying if he said that he didn’t miss Jack sometimes. They kept talking, because it was nice to have someone to talk about things that he normally couldn’t with other people. Jack chirped him for being so cryptic and never saying what was going to happen.

Like the NHL lockout, Jack would have really liked a heads up in that one. Both of them had their eyes on the price, they wanted to get drafted.

Now, the problem was, they weren’t exactly sure when.

In a warm night in the beginning of July, Sidney had been talking to Jack when he stopped listening to what his friend was venting about, his voice turning into a soft sound in the back of his mind. He closed his eyes and the voice of Gary Bettman echoed on his head, amplified by speakers.

When Sidney realized, Jack had been calling his name for a while, worry tone on his voice. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“No, you weren’t.” Jack said, crackling through the phone. “Are you okay? Was that a vision?”

“Yeah,” Sidney replied. He took a few breaths, before answering, his hand holding the telephone tightly without realizing. “It’s going to end soon.”

Jack made an annoyed sound and questioned about what the hell he was talking about. He stopped himself mid-sentence as if knowledge washed over him. “Oh my god,” he said slowly. “You’re going to be the first pick.” That comment earned him a chocking sound coming from Sid.

Jack got goosebumps when the lockout ended a few days later.

And when they announced Sidney’s name in that gloomy room, Jack clapped until his hands stung.

 

x

 

If someone had told Sidney he was going to play and _live_ with Mario Lemieux, he wouldn’t believe it.

Yet he knew it and there he was, listening to Mario talking with his older child about something, while Sidney helped Nathalie cook dinner. It was somewhat weird but soothing. His first year in the NHL was everything he had been expecting and more: the lights of Mellon Arena seemed brighter than on his visions and the ice, colder, and the blades of his skates, sharper, and his teammates, friendlier, and the media, uglier.

He felt like a kid, excited to put his gear on, and he wondered when the novelty would wear off.

Spoiler alert: soon.

A few games into the season, Sidney started to have visions that wouldn’t quite form. All he saw were blurred images that left him with a discomfort on the chest as if something was wrong with his heart. Sometimes were his shoulders, a phantom weight pressing down on him. It scared Sidney, it really did.

He didn’t mention it to anyone, not to his parents or to Jack. He just rubbed that sore spot on his chest, wondering if it was going to be his heart the one to fail, the one who would stop him from playing a full career in the NHL. Sidney had developed his routines as a mechanism of protection, a way to keep himself grounded in reality, but in the last few days, even that had been failing him.

Of course, Mario noticed his strange behavior. It was obvious on the way his rookie would space out, on how he did his routines hesitantly, and how he would sometimes press a hand on his chest. Mario had tried to ask him what was wrong, both as a captain and, well, he wasn’t really sure. A fatherly figure, maybe?

Either way, Sidney shrugged it off awkwardly and said it was nothing.

It was _not_ nothing.

Both of them were alone in the house when Mario heard some chaos happening on the upper floors. Sidney had been a good and quiet guest, quickly becoming part of their family, so he wondered what was happening. He got up from the kitchen chair and walked over, ready to make his way to Sidney’s floor.

Yet, Sidney appeared on the top of stairs before Mario could put a foot down on the first step.

He was pale and out of breath, a hand pressing firmly on his chest. Mario’s heart sank to his stomach, fear washing over him and the worst thoughts flooding his mind. He would later ask himself, when Sidney said his goodnights to both Nathalie and him, if what scared him the most was not knowing what was happening or Sidney’s eyes, fixed on him but not really looking.

Mario took a moment before gathering the young player on his arms and bringing him to sit down on the couch. “Are you alright?” He questioned, trying to keep calm. Sidney took a deep breath and nodded, before really focusing on Mario.

“Have you ever felt like, your heart wanted to beat out of your chest?”

He had, for sure: meting Nathalie, falling in love, seeing his children for the first time, winning the Stanley Cup, but something inside him told him that Sidney wasn’t asking that. He didn’t answer and just walked away to bring Sidney a cup of water. “Should I call someone? Should I take you to the hospital?” Mario asked.  Sidney looked at him behind the glass of water and was quick in saying no, but a worried Mario was more stubborn than typical Mario. “Sid, you almost passed out.”

Sidney looked at him. “I feel fine now, I swear.” He knew that wasn’t enough to convince Mario. “I’ll make the doctors check me out tomorrow, yes? And if I feel bad again, I’ll tell you.” Mario wanted to argue but just nodded. He knew that Sidney wouldn’t do anything stupid to risk his whole career and, possibly, his whole life.

“Okay, but I’m going in with you,” Mario said and Sidney nodded gently.

“If,” Sidney started again, stopping Mario from getting up. “If something happens to you, like this, uh. Can you promise me you’ll go to the hospital?” Mario blinked at Sidney, confused what brought this up. “Please.”

“Of course, Sidney, I promise.” His rookie nodded back and the captain noticed the relieved expression on his face.

As it turned out, nothing was wrong with Sidney and that comforted Mario.

Days later, Mario indeed felt his heart beat out of his chest but couldn’t shake it off as easy as Sidney did.

Sidney woke up in the middle of the night and heard voices coming from downstairs. He got up, pulling on a jacket and walked down slowly before Nathalie appeared on the stairs, wide eyed, as if she was trying her best to keep calm. Sidney listened to her, the _please, keep an eye on the kids, I’m taking Mario to the hospital_ and _don’t know when we are coming back¸_ before she disappeared.

By the time Sidney made it to the entrance, the car keys and their coats were missing.

When Sidney got to see Mario the next day, all the kids walking under the small threshold of the hospital door, the older man looked at him with understanding eyes. Sidney somehow felt vulnerable; somehow feeling his secret was discovered after all those years. But Mario never pressed about it, never sat him down and questioned him, and Sidney was grateful. He just got used to the vacant looks and the sudden quietness, his hand occasionally dropping on Sidney’s shoulder to bring him out of it.

After the end of the season, Sidney had an A slapped onto his chest, the weight of the team on his shoulders and the expectations from the media growing like a monster. The novelty had worn off and now it was time to go to work.

What Sidney never saw coming, not on his visions or listening to the locker room gossip, was Evgeni Malkin appearing on a humid night in the middle of September. He was tall and had a gentle but tired expression on his face, way too tired to be standing up in someone else’s house in a strange country with a foreign language. Even with all of that piled on top of each other, the smile that he shot at Sidney was warm and, somehow, Sidney felt at home, and that was a strange thought since it was Malkin the one who flew from the other side of the world.

“I’m Sidney Crosby,” he said, smiling, even when he was sure they didn’t need introductions to each other.

“ _Evgeni Malkin,”_ he replied, his name rolling out of his tongue smoothly. They shook hands and Sidney smiled back. “ _Call me Zhenya.”_

Sidney blinked. “Zhenya?” He tried to repeat but the sound wasn’t the same. Malkin laughed.

“ _We talked about this,”_ interjected Gonchar, with a tired expression himself. “Call him Geno.”

“Geno,” repeated Sid and he nodded. “Geno, then.”

Mario soon made them all go inside, dinner ready and kids pacing around the table like wolves.

Sidney and Geno had a short conversation, Gonchar translating for both of them.

It was a few hours later, most of the lights off and the sound of the rain outside echoing on the living room, when Mario found Sidney sitting down on the couch, closed eyes and hand on his heart. “All good?” He asked, sitting down next to him and patting Sidney’s shoulder softly, making sure he was with him.

“Yeah,” he answered slowly before opening his eyes and looking at Mario. “I felt my heart beat out of my chest” and before Mario could ask anything, Sidney added, “in a good way.”

Mario wasn’t sure what to say because the smile that flourished on Sidney’s face was as if he just won the Stanley Cup. He didn’t say anything and just nodded, squeezing Sidney’s shoulder softly. He left him there, insignificant words of not staying up too later even when he knew the boy wasn’t like that.

When Geno walked to the locker room the first day of training camp, the same excitement that he had felt on his rookie season appeared once again.

Sidney was ready for everything.

 

x

 

They had been riding high with the wins.

They sweep the Senators, took both the Rangers and the Flyers in five. They were all feeling confident, wanting to take on the Red Wings and finish this, take the Cup home and make their home crowd proud –make them know that this was a new beginning.

“This isn’t out year.”

Duper was sitting next to Sidney, who had been in silence for a while in the flight to Detroit. He was reading so he thought he heard wrong. “What?”

“This isn’t our year,” Sidney repeated. In other circumstances, Duper would have been quick to jump and chirp him for saying that, telling him he was jinxing the team. But he observed, he noticed the sudden exhaustion on his captain, his eyes teary and staring into nothing in the seat in front of them.

The older man just observed him, shocked. “Sid?” Sidney then snapped out of his thoughts, he glanced at Duper quickly before crossing his arms and closing his eyes. He didn’t move so Duper returned to his book, the words running around his head.

When they lost three to two in the final, it hurt. His own crowd had to see the Cup being handed to the other team, red jerseys jumping around and hugging excitedly on the ice. There was always going to be a loser: this year, it just happened to be them. Duper searched for Sidney in the sea of sad, mad, and disappointed faces to find his solemn one –just as if he had known all this time. It was creepy and Duper got goosebumps when Sidney delivered a short and bittersweet speech.

Sidney was sure that his words meant nothing, that most of them felt numb, even himself. His team was dealing in their own way with the loss and Sidney, too, because it didn’t matter how much time he had to swallow it up, it still hurt.

Some teammates took off as soon as possible and left the city, families and sorrow following them. To the ones who were still in town, Sidney tried to keep in touch with them, quick visits and calls that seemed to cheer them up, for a while at least.

“How did you know?” Duper asked, both of them standing in the light of porch. Sidney had been invited for dinner with the Dupuis and, how he could say no when there were four excited children he hasn’t seen in a while? Sidney looked up, bright eyed. “How the fuck did you know?”

“I just did,” he answered. “Good night, Duper. Thanks for everything” and with that, he walked to his car and drove away. Duper stood there until his captain had disappeared at the corner of the street.

Sidney also became a constant with Geno, whose flight was leaving at the end of the month.

They hung out quietly on the afternoons. They drank in time to time, they watched the reruns in the NHL network, and they talked about nothing and everything in particular –Sidney talked about Taylor and about history, Geno talked about his family and about Russia, stumbling on his english but doing his best, getting better as time went by.

He had noticed a change on Geno’s behavior towards him in the days after their loss and, even when he asked Geno why and he didn’t get any answers, he couldn’t really understand why.

One day, Geno snapped.

“Team cry because we lose. But you don’t cry. Why you not sad, Sid?” He asked, annoyance slipping through heavy accented words. His hand resting on his knee had white knuckles. Sidney looked at him and he wasn’t sure what his expression was. “You look okay.”

“Uh, well,” he mumbled, trying to find his words. “I had time to, I don’t know. Come into terms with it, get used to it, I guess.” Sidney paused before looking at Geno. “Sorry if it annoys you but, it just happens.”

“You weird, Sid,” Geno said in response.

“I know, G, I know.”

That night, Sidney accidently fell asleep with his head on Geno’s lap when watching a movie and Geno didn’t think twice before caressing Sidney’s hair, quickly falling asleep himself.

 

x

 

Sidney sat down heavily on his stall and, to Tanger’ eyes, it seemed like he wanted to disappear.

They were in Toronto and the locker room was silent after a six two loss. It had been awful, to all of them, if not mostly to their young goalie. Their dear coach Therrien didn’t even wait for them to settle and cold down before screaming at them vulgarly about their performance.

There has been more hallway talk than usual on Mellon Arena, about how awful Therrien was. Tanger himself might have partaken in some of it. In some ways, he was a good coach. They probably couldn’t have managed that far if it wasn’t for him, but holy shit, you got tired of his totalitarian asshole attitude quickly.

The guys had tried to take an opinion out of Sidney whenever they went out for drinks. They tried hard but their well behaved captain had decided to stay quiet on the matter. The thing is, Sidney might not say anything, yet everyone could see it: his style of play didn’t change, even when he was told over and over again to do it, and the respect he showed to his coach seemed more like a formality than anything.

It was more prominent after Therrien’s “Marc-Andre is the worst first pick I’ve seen in my life” spiel.

Throughout the _speech,_ if someone could call it that, Tanger observed how Flower was still on his pads, looking so small in them, as if he just wanted them to swallow him whole. Geno was holding his stick tightly between his hands and Duper was only staring at their coach.

It caught Tanger’ attention when Therrien stopped talking abruptly. He looked up and observed how their coach had his eyes fixed on Sidney, who was looking back at him intensely. If there was some tension on the locker room before, it was definitely palpable now.

“What are you staring at? Do you have something to say?” He asked. Sidney was hunched over with his hands clasped, elbows on his knees. Tanger noticed how, even when his captain was staring straight at Therrien, it seemed like he was observing way beyond him.

“This is our year,” he said, loudly and proudly. The rookies started looking at each other, confused. Tanger shot a look to Duper and Geno. “This is our fucking year.” Therrien didn’t say anything back, just pointed at him while nodding and left. Their flight home was a mix of sadness and confusion.

When the news broke out the next day, late at night, Tanger was almost speechless.

 _Therrien was fired. Wilkes-Barre’s Dan Bylsma is the new coach_ was the mass text Ray had sent to the players. Not a few minutes later, he texted Sid: _Did you know?_

 _No, I didn’t._ Tanger wasn’t sure if he should believe him. But, there wasn’t any reason of why Sid would be lying.

Sidney’s words washed to Tanger’ mind and that led him to send Sidney a short text: _I believe you. This is our year._

The answer came early morning the next day. _It will be._

Sidney knew it was.

In that locker room in Toronto, Sidney went to the moment where a cold metal felt like home on his hands. He saw bright flashes and a sea of smiling faces focusing and blurring in front of him, as if everything was happening in slow motion and he was crying because of it. On his ears, there was cheering and yelling, and he wasn’t even sure if he was the one who was screaming.

Sidney, in that moment, knew what was destined to happen.

When the news broke out the next day, Geno wondered, too. How Sidney knew? How is that he just knew things? He then sent a text to Sidney, asking him if he could drive him to the Arena that morning. Of course, Sidney being the captain and the good old Canadian boy he was, he accepted it.

As soon as he got into Sidney’s car, he asked. “How you know, Sid?”

“What?” Sidney asked back, frown on his face but eyes on the road. Geno pinched his arm lightly. “Hey!”

Geno adjusted his seatbelt over his chest. “How you know, about coach? Mario tell you?”

His captain sighed and drove quietly for a moment, as if he was thinking about what to say. “Mario didn’t tell me anything. Ray didn’t, either. I just know these things, G, what do you want me to say?”

Geno left out an annoyed huff and crossed his arms around his chest.

Sidney let out a sigh before nodding his head. “I promise I’ll tell you, I’ll give you an answer, but, we win it first.” Geno was ready to complain to Sid when he observed a genuine smile blooming on his face, just like he had the first night they met each other.

“Ok, Sid. You promise,” he mumbled under his breath, and it lingered on the ride to the Arena.

And it lingered on the rest of the season.

And it lingered on their playoff run.

And it lingered on the exact same moment in game 7, where the zeros on the clock illuminated the winning team.

Sidney knew they were meant to win but living the present felt hundred times different than on his visions. Emotion overwhelmed him and he ended up crying, wrapped around Tanger’ arms, the same Tanger who had searched for him in front of the pile, and the same one who believed him when he said that this was their year.

He heard Geno’s happy yelling, wrapped around Gonch’s arms and listened to Talbot’s french curses, all of them bouncing onto the pile were Flower was buried.

Lifting the Stanley Cup over his head was an out of body experience: the metal was colder than he expected it, his hands couldn’t stop shaking, and he didn’t really understand what Gary Bettman was saying because the Cup was there, gorgeous under the shiny lights, and it was _theirs._

They celebrated on the small locker room, champagne and beer bathing the Cup. It was way too loud in such a small space, but they didn’t care. There were blinding flashes going on every few minutes, coming from the journalists and their own media people, but also from their own cameras, their families wanting to remember this with them.

Sidney wanted that moment to be eternal, never dying.

Back on the shared bedroom, the Cup sat on the dresser in front of the bed. Both Geno and Sid had been drunkenly staring at it for the past few minutes. They were the Stanley _fucking_ Champions and something inside Sidney told him that this was too good to be truth, but she was there, and Geno was there, and this wasn’t a dream.

In the silence, Sidney could still feel the adrenaline running through him. He bumped his shoulder with Geno, smiling brightly. “We won,” Sidney said quietly, his voice breaking. “We won the Cup.”

“Yes, we win,” was Geno wavy response, pressing himself next to Sidney. Sidney looked back at Geno, both of them too close, too personal but too drunk to care, to even think.

Neither of them was sure who started it. Yet, Sidney would never forget Geno’s warm hand on his cheek and his lips pressing against his; he tested like cheap beer and silver, he tested like winning. His hands were roaming around Geno’s body soon enough and they didn’t need to think twice before taking things to the next level, to travel south. Their mouths were letting out words that sounded like prayers, asking for more.

When they woke up the next morning, tangled and dirty in the same bed, Sidney sat down and looked at Geno with tender eyes and a gentle smile that made Geno’s heart melt. “Remember the promise?”

“Of course I’m remember,” he said, sleepily.

Sidney told Geno everything.

And Geno believed him, between kisses, promising back that he will always be there for him.

“We win more Cups, Sid. You and me.”

Mario told Sidney once that when you win the Cup, there’s always a story attached to it –“like that time the Lord Stanley ended up drowning in my pool, for example”, he said and Sidney laughed whenever he listened to the story. The thing is that Sidney might not want to tell anybody that he had sex with Geno in front of the Cup.

It’s better if it was a secret for two.

 

x

 

After the parade, after the locker clean out, Geno left and Sidney felt like a one-night stand.

And, well, maybe it was alright. Both of them knew that being together would have mayor consequences and Sidney didn’t want Geno to get hurt because of him. Sidney just stayed quiet. So, when training camp started, he pressed himself to concentrate on hockey because, when you win the Cup, you want to repeat the feeling over and over again. Of course, everyone knows it wasn’t that easy.

Coming from the Winter Olympics with gold hanging from his neck, he felt he could do everything.

But, not everyone on the Penguins felt like that.

“You should talk to Zhenya.”

Sidney looked up from his seat in the plane, Gonch leaning over and talking to him. “What? About what?”

Gonch frowned. “About his slump. The idiot is beating himself because of the Olympics. So, talk to him.”

It was a few days later when Sidney caught Geno sitting down on the bench after practice, observing the ice in silence. Sidney sat down next to him, already showered and changed, while Geno was still wearing all his gear. His alternate looked at him, as if he was trying to figure out why his captain was sitting next to him and not on his way home.

“It’s an amazing experience, representing your country and wearing their colors,” Sidney started, leaning over the boards as he usually did on the games, eyes on the ice. “There’s pride and you feel determined to do anything. But when things go wrong, you kind of feel like you’re disappointing a whole nation.”

Geno looked at Sidney in silence, before looking down and leaning forward with him. “Canada always win, you don’t know how it feel.”

“No, I don’t.” The answer almost surprised Geno, if it wasn’t for the soft expression on Sidney’s face. “So I can’t really imagine how horrible it must be.”

“Most horrible,” he answered back and Sidney looked at him, shooting soft smiles to each other.

They talked. Well, Geno did most of the talking and Sidney did most of the listening. There were Russian words slipping between the english ones, sadness and irritation coming through, but leaving as fast as they came. There was some resentment to Canada, too, of course, but Sidney understood. It was alright.

When Geno scored his first goal after the Olympics, Sidney was on the ice, and he jumped on him excitedly. Watching Geno smile at him made Sidney’s chest knot itself. And it wasn’t only on goals, on assists, on good plays –Sidney couldn’t help but feel as if something broke inside of him and let butterflies loose whenever he observed Geno. There was a lingering necessity under his skin of wanting to return to the Cup night.

It was just as he felt for Jack once, but hundred times worse.

His head was in other place and the Habs decided to take advantage of that on the second round.

Sidney knew it wasn’t exactly his fault, that they were a team, but something inside him told him that he should have lead their team better. Maybe it was also the talks he had with Dan and Mario in time to time, asking him what the fuck he was doing out there.

He retreated with Jack that summer, at first, unable to face his own family.

“You should stop sulking,” Jack told him one afternoon, at the half-empty Californian beach, sun sinking in the horizon. “It’s getting annoying.”

“You should stop sulking,” Sidney repeated mockingly, which granted him sand to the face. “Stop. I’m _not_.”

Jack rolled his eyes and lied back on his towel, arms behind his head. “You are. And you’re also pining for someone.”

Sidney looked at his friend, the one who had loved in the past and loved now, in a different way. It should be a weird topic to bring up but Jack didn’t seem disturbed by the fact. “I guess I am.”

He sat on his elbows, eyebrow raised. “And, are you going to do something about it?”

Sidney huffed. “I wish it was that easy.”

They didn’t talk about it after that.

Geno greeted him back in Pittsburgh with hugs and questions of _we win Cup again, yes? What best brain say?_ And that made Sidney realize how much he had missed Geno, too much if he was being honest with himself. He wanted to bring it up, to ask if Geno felt the same way.

Sidney had decided he would talk to Geno, he just didn’t find the time to do it. And he forgot about it when they presented the Winter Classic Jerseys to the team. Sidney frowned upon them without knowing why. Duper chirped him about it, asking if he was worried his ass wouldn’t look good in blue, making the locker room laugh. He didn’t say anything back.

Sidney would later discover why those jerseys were a bad omen.

Kuni found Sidney standing in the hallway of the Heinz Arena, stick on his hands, but looking over his shoulder. His eyes were going wild as if he was searching something but they were looking at the void. “Sid,” he called but his captain didn’t react. “Sidney.” This time, he pressed his hand on his shoulder and the younger man almost jumped.

“I was blindsided,” he whispered, before looking at the stick on his hands. He sighed deeply and walked to Dana, who was working with the equipment a few doors away from them.

Kuni looked at him go, not sure if he should say anything. He tried to forget it, shake it off and keep his mind on the game against the Capitals. But, when he saw the hit that leveled Sid and left him on the ice, he couldn’t take his eyes away from him. When they were going off the ice, Kuni’s eyes caught Geno’s, both of them with worry on their faces.

On the locker room, Kuni and Geno sat together in silence while their team was talking amongst each other. Sidney wasn’t anywhere near them, probably on the quiet room. “Sid say something to you?” Geno asked him, because there was that confused look he had seen in others.

Kuni opened and closed his mouth, as if he was trying to figure out what to say. “He said he was _fucking_ blindsided, like, hours ago. How did he know?” There was worry, if not panic painting his words.

Geno gulped, before shaking his head and lying. “Don’t know.”

Sidney returned to the ice and played while Geno’s heart sunk. Sidney told him, honest and sincere, that he got visions of things that had consequences, things that would mark him. If Sid wasn’t injured right now, it meant the worst was yet to come. _That_ scared Geno.

Sidney returned game after game, and played and got hit, but kept playing. He played and got hit, over and over again, and kept playing until he couldn’t anymore.

It’s in the middle of March when Geno wonders if this was the worst.

He had skipped optional practice to come and visit Sid. It was a different universe in that small room on Mario’s house: all dark in the middle of the day with the smell of closed present on his nose. There was a tiny night lamp that probably belonged to one of the smaller Lemieux’s but now it was there, connected to the wall, its dim light barely present in the room.

The team had gotten updates from Dan, whenever they asked. Geno knew they told them what they wanted to hear –“he’s doing better every day, just give him more time”– and that didn’t sit well with him.

“How is he? How he feel today?” Geno asked Mario, who had received him that morning. The older man took a deep breath and sighed, and that spoke much more than words. Even when he had had a concussion himself, he let Mario run him through the things he should not do, noticing how it comforted him to have some control in the situation.

Geno didn’t ask Sidney the same questions. He knew Sidney would answer him honestly, would tell him without hesitation. Yet, both of them knew that the next day would be different, and the day after that, and the day after that. It wasn’t a proper sickness, one that you could get gradually better: concussions were scary for a reason. Instead, Geno asked in the lowest voice he could manage about the visions, asked if he had seen something from the future. Sidney shook his head and mumbled that he hasn’t had one since the first hit.

And, in that exact same moment, Geno feared.

And, in that exact same moment, Geno realized something.

With his hand resting on Sidney’s nape, his fingers caressing that point where hair and skin meet, he realized he wanted that Cup night to be every night, with or without the Cup.

Just Sidney beside him was enough.

 

x

 

It was a long summer.

It was the longest summer in Sidney’s life but when he managed to return to the ice, when he could skate once again without feeling like being on a boat, it was all worth it. He found Geno sitting beside their trainer, both of them observing him. “Give you ride, Sid,” he said when Sidney finished untying his skates. “Best driver.”

Sidney smiled brightly, happiness still bubbling on his chest. “Alright.”

It was a quiet ride and Sidney invited Geno in.

When he entered Sidney’s room, it was a totally different place compared to last time he had there. The windows were open, soft breeze coming in, bright light shining through. He sat down on the edge of Sidney’s bed and looked at him, smiling.

“What?” Sidney asked, looking back at him.

“Want to talk, Sid,” Geno said and patted the empty space beside him. Sidney didn’t say anything but sat down, their knees brushing with each other. “I think last time I’m here, I want Cup night to be forever. Cup, no Cup, don’t matter. But, want you with me. Want you in good and in bad.”

Sidney looked at him with tender eyes and smiled. He then looked down and sighed. “It’s not going to be easy. And there’s going to be consequences.”

“I know but if we’re happy, don’t matter. Right?” Geno asked, his hand resting carefully on Sidney’s nape, bringing him close. “I want to give a chance. Only if you want, too.”

“I’ve been wanting it, for a while,” he answered and Sidney pressed his lips against Geno’s.

Sidney kissed him for a moment but couldn’t contain the laugh that was growing inside of him. There were too many good things happening one after the other, it almost seemed like a dream. “Why you laugh, Sid! We kiss now,” Geno complained before pushing him down on the couch, kissing his cheeks and pressing his beard against Sidney’s skin. Sidney just laughed harder.

 _I stopped pinning,_ was the text Sidney sent Jack hours later, when he had kissed Geno goodbye on the front door.

 _In a good or bad way?_ Jack asked back and he smiled when his best friend just sent him a smiley face back at him.

The first time Sidney found Geno observing him quietly on practice instead of listening to Dan, he was confused.

The second time Sidney found Geno observing him before their first game of the playoffs, he wondered.

The third time Sidney found Geno observing him at a stop light on their way to CONSOL, dressed in their suits, he impulsively asked him why. “Why you keep looking at me like that?” He expected anything from Geno but a laugh, he laughed loudly and beautifully.

Geno’s hand searched Sid’s, their fingers tangling. He rested their hands on his knee. “Because you here, healthy. Very good to see you back.”

“You know that I’m still kind of broken, right?” He answered back, squeezing Geno’s hand.

It wasn’t a lie. Since he got better from the concussion and the neck injury, the visions had disappeared and now he was haunted by dreams that left without breath. It was one of the reason why he asked to room alone and, of course, no one told him no because he was the Captain and, mostly, he was _Sidney Crosby_.

“I love you, Sid, special powers o no” and the declaration was so off-hand, so casual, so stupidly perfect that Sidney couldn’t help but smile back brightly.

It was perfect until they didn’t win the Cup that year, Boston hitting them hard. It hurt a little more than it did the year before.

Wishing Geno goodbye was bittersweet. They stood on the entrance of Sidney’s half-furnished house kissing, not wanting to leave each other, but having to.

After that, summer flew by.

He spent his day on Cole Harbor, training with Andy, fishing alone, hanging with his family, and trying to relax.

Taylor was the first person he ever told about Geno. She giggled and hugged him, telling him that she was so, _so_ happy for him, and then teased him with questions like _so, you have a thing for Russians. What do you think about Ovechkin?_ Sidney didn’t laugh but Taylor couldn’t stop.

Returning to Pittsburgh, to Geno, felt like going home.

He had always had that feeling over Sidney, it just had grown over the years.

There were a few free days before the training camp properly started, so they spent it together. It was nice, it was one of those things that made Sidney realized what he had been missing throughout his life –a loving company. He had had his fair share of dates with beautiful women, and other secret dates with handsome men, but never let anyone get too close.

Geno was the first one that had seen Sidney vulnerable side, and he didn’t regret it.

Both of them had been cuddling on the couch when Jack called, just to talk and catch up with each other. Geno had heard about Jack, about their time in school and the things they had done together. Sidney probably expected jealousy on Geno’s part but he understood, he knew what it was like to have history with someone.

“You look good in blue but, I hate it,” Sidney confessed to Jack over the phone and giggled afterwards. “I’m glad that we get to see each other more–” Geno looked up from his phone when Sidney stopped talking mid-sentence. He had never seen the change, the way Sidney blinked slowly and his eyes unfocused to then focus on something beyond the present. He couldn’t really find a word to describe what it felt like, but he felt afraid, even if it was for a moment.

The noise that was Jack’s voice over the phone reached Geno’s ears when he sat down next to Sidney. He pressed his hand on his shoulder. “Sid,” he called with a shaky voice.

Sidney took a deep breath and came back, looking at Geno. “Hey,” he replied and he realized Jack was still on the line. “Jack. It’s going to happen again.”

The silence of the room let Geno listen Jack’s response and the venom on the words. “Yeah? _Fuck._ ”

Sidney said goodbye to Jack quickly afterwards and he stayed there, shaking and with a headache brewing on his temples. He leaned forward, scaring Geno thinking he had fainted, but Sidney was just trying to calm himself because that was the first vision since the concussion happened. It changed, because it wasn’t just snippets of what was going to happen, it wasn’t only the feelings and the emotions. He _had been_ there –he was standing on the common room, his teammates surrounding him, when Gary Bettman announced the lockout. He _lived_ it.

Geno didn’t ask him right away, letting the moment pass.

He waited a few nights later, when both of them were returning from an evening jog.

Sidney peeled off his shirt and stood in the middle of the bathroom, silently. “What do you think about, uh, playing in Metallurg again?” And, of all the things that could have come out of Sidney’s mouth, Geno never saw this coming. His expression must have changed drastically because he saw panic on Sidney’s face. “It’s not like that! I… well, I just think that you’ll be happier there. Shit is going to get ugly here.”

Geno nodded, leaning against the bathroom counter. “What do you think about Russia? Come play with me. Play together, win _Gagarina_ Cup together. ”

Sidney laughed and shrugged, answering with a quiet _maybe, we’ll see._

By the time the lockout was announced, Sidney already knew a few handful words in Russian.

As days passed and Sidney didn’t see the lockout ending anytime soon, the more he thought about fucking off to Russia with Geno. He was tired of playing dress up and trying to help find a solution but leaving empty handed. Yet, in December, he saw it end.

And in January, the lockout ended and Geno returned and everyone kept playing hockey as if nothing ever happened.

There was a phantom ache on his jaw since the season started.

“Oh,” he mumbled to himself. On one of the doors along the hallway, the blue jerseys were hanging, terrifying.

Chris Stewart almost walked into Sidney.

He looked up at him and saw how he was pressing a hand on his jaw. Chris swore he saw nails digging into his skin. “Hey,” he called. “Is everything okay?” Sidney had been getting some pucks to the face in the last games, so he wouldn’t be surprised if there were some sore spots. Either way, knowing Sidney’s concussion history, he worried a little more about him than other players.

“Yeah,” Sidney answered, sounding distant. “It’s going to hurt. So, be prepared.”

“Alright,” was all Chris could say before Sidney walked away.

Chris didn’t even have enough time to think about Sidney’s words. It was less than three minutes into the game when he saw the deflection and Sidney quickly falling onto the ice. It was less than three seconds before Chris jumped over the boards, making his way to the Captain.

Sidney lived it twice: he felt the sharp and cold feeling of broken bones twice, the awkward fall on the ice twice, and the feeling of loose teeth and the taste of blood twice. Since the concussion, he had been only living his visions. He felt as if he was in a strange time loop.

He got up slowly and then felt Chris pressing a towel to his face, his teammates helping him skate away.

Geno was on the bench when it happened. Both of their eyes crossed before making his way into the locker room.

It was a while until Geno appeared on the trainers’ room, where the doctors had been checking over him. Sidney felt loopy but Geno was the one who looked loopy. “Sid, should give me warning before it happens” he said, his warm hand wrapping around Sidney’s wrist. They were in silence for a moment, the only sound was the conversation going outside. “Not funny, I’m not laugh. Look, not laugh” and he exaggerated a sad face.

And under the impersonal lights, Sidney made a sound that seemed like a laugh.

 

x

 

Dan called Sidney and his alternates right after the losing game.

Kuni and Geno were sitting at his sides, all of them sitting down in front of Dan’s desk.

Sid was trying to do his best. He was trying to pay attention to whatever their coach was saying but he still had a buzz on his ears. They lost, they were so close to eliminate the Rangers from the series and they failed to do it, _again_ , in fucking April. It felt as if they weren’t good enough.

The buzz changed. It turned into a static and he found himself looking at his phone, showing up a text with words that told me more than he needed to know. He came back when he heard Dan calling him. Sidney focused on his coach’s face, his hand closing where the phone had been –or was going to be? “You were a good coach, Dan,” Sidney’s words stumbled down his lips. All of them had their eyes on him. It seemed like Geno was trying to do his best, holding himself together but his eyes were going wide.

Dan hesitated on his answer. “Thank you, Sid.” There was a moment of awkward silence before they were dismissed.

They didn’t talk on the way out, they didn’t talk in the locker room, and they didn’t say anything besides quick goodbyes on the parking lot. Kuni left and got in his car while they got into Sidney’s car, in silence.

They were stuck on traffic when Geno cleared his throat, probably to bring Sidney out of his own thoughts. “It’s not nice.”

Sidney shook his head. “No, yeah, it fucking sucked,” he shrugged before adding, “but a loss is a loss. We have to accept it.”

“No, Sidney,” Geno turned and looked at him. “No talk about game, I’m talk about coach.”

“Dan?” He frowned, looking back at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Geno shook his head and threw his hands, something that made Sidney’s blood boil. “Coach is going to get fired. You say, he keep thinking, and it happen. He probably think Mario tell you something!”

Sidney opened and closed his mouth. “Mario didn’t tell me anything!”

“And how coach know that? He think–”

“Okay, he thinks, but what am I supposed to do? I don’t have control over it!”

Both of them knew that it was a ridiculous idea if they wanted to fight now: they were both emotional, after a big loss. So, when the words came out of Geno’s mouth, Sidney couldn’t recall the last time he felt this upset.

“Fuck, Sid, maybe you do! You even try to control power?”

Sidney had tried and Geno knew that. He had tried to control it, to have a grasp on whatever made him have this _power,_ but it seemed like it was bigger than him –something he couldn’t really gets his hands on. He held the steering wheel until his knuckles went white. “I tried,” he answered between his teeth. “Of course I fucking tried. You think I like blurting out words that can hurt anyone? You think I like not having control of my own body?”

“Maybe not try hard.”

“I’m doing the fucking best I can, Malkin.”

The use of his last name had Geno crossing his arms over his chest. He opened his mouth and he couldn’t stop himself but the words tasted like regret halfway through. “No, you don’t. If you do, we don’t yell at because of this. Since concussion, you are most weird. I don’t like.”

Sidney hit the steering wheel, anger bubbling inside him. “I’ve a curse on myself! Don’t you think I’ve tried to take it off of me?”

“Don’t know, Crosby! Never know what is happening on brain!”

“And I don’t know either!” He answered, a little louder than necessary. He was about to say something when a horn coming from behind made him jump, realizing that the traffic was now moving.

They didn’t say anything. Those minutes might have been enough to calm down and think logically what they were going to say to each other when they reached home. But, what was home right now? Still, it didn’t work. Sidney stopped in Geno’s driveway, turned off the car. They sat down in silence, the only sound echoing on the small space were Sidney’s keys on his hands and the motor cooling down.

“You come in?” Sidney didn’t look at him, just shook his head. The tone of the question made it seem like Geno didn’t want him there, his question was just a formality. If Sidney was being honest with himself, he didn’t want to be there either. “Okay, we talk later.”

Later turned out to be June.

Geno had returned to Russia with a bad tasted on the mouth, so he hung around his parents’ house more than usual to forget about everything. His mother noticed his behavior before he even had the chance to sit down at the kitchen table but she didn’t press. “ _I don’t know what’s bothering you, Zhenya_ ,” she started one day, her Russian soothing as always. She handed him a cup of warm tea for the cold afternoon they were having. “ _But we both know you probably stepped over the line. You fix things, you’ll happy.”_

He got the news when the sun had already set down. He felt an overwhelming need to call Sidney.

When Geno got up, his mother made a soft sound before telling him to fix things, as if she knew everything. And, in some way, she did, she could read him better than the palm of her hand. Geno shot her a soft smile before walking to an empty room, closing the door behind.

Sidney didn’t take long to pick up. “Hey.”

“Sid,” he started and stopped. They haven’t talked since that night and there were so many things he wanted to say. “Hi.”

“ _Hello,”_ Sidney replied in Russian and, even when they were miles and miles away, he knew Sidney was smiling proudly at that. Geno was _actually_ proud of the pronunciation. “I missed you.”

“Miss you, too, miss you the most,” Geno said. “I’m very sorry, Sid, forgive me. Don’t mean things I say but what I say, hurt you. I’m angry and stupid, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. It wasn’t the nicest thing.” There was a pause before Sidney said “you know I’d stop myself if I could.”

Geno replied softly. “I know. You don’t have curse, just powers and they are difficult to control. It’s okay.”

Sidney sighed on the other line. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Yeah,” Geno hummed before he lowered his voice, coming soft and warm. “I love you and love powers, Sid. They make you, uh, more _you_. Make you best.”

Sidney huffed and Geno somehow knew he was smiling. “I love you, too,” Sidney replied, and Geno felt his heart warm. “Well, it was just a silly discussion. I’m not even mad anymore. I wanted to call before but I, I thought I already lost you.”

Geno made a distraught noise. “Not going to lose me. It was discussion, yes, not enough to break up.”

“I know but, there’s always fear.” Sidney cleared his throat. “You’re just, um, too good to be truth, you know? One of the best things in my life and, well. Losing you would hurt.”

Geno sighed, his heart beating way too quickly. He wanted to say many things to Sidney, wanted to take the first flight to Canada, ignoring all of his obligations, and pull Sidney into a tight hug and shower with kisses and praises; he wanted to keep Sidney close to him, as long as he could. But, the only thing he could do at the moment was answer. “You’re best thing, too. Very happy with you.”

“Good,” Sidney said. “Anyway, I should apologize, I was kind of mean.”

“Very mean,” Geno replied quickly.

“Oh, shut up,” Sidney laughed. “But yeah, um, I’m sorry, too.”

It took them a while before Geno remembered why he had called in the first place. “See news about coach?”

“I saw” and his tone was sad, nearly sour, as if Sidney had wanted to do something about it.

“You see what happens next?” Geno asked. “To coach and team?”

It took Sidney a long time to find his words. “Difficult times.”

 

x

 

The Mike Johnston era wasn’t great.

There was something that Sidney didn’t like about him. He did his best to show respect to the coach, as the Captain. But, it was proven to be difficult and frustrating. There were too many mistakes on the season, too many coaching decisions that didn’t make sense. And, if losing the second round to the Rangers was bad last year, losing to them in the first round was even worse.

That summer, Geno and Sid got away, got lost. They were trying to forget everything that happened in the season. Coming back to Pittsburgh should feel like a new start: new season, a new opportunity to win the Cup once again.

Then, word got out that Phil Kessel had been traded to the Penguins.

Geno insisted in doing a small reunion before training camp started, to welcome the new players and see old friends, including Phil Kessel. Sidney couldn’t really say no. It was public knowledge that Toronto hated Kessel, but it was a secret among players that Kessel’s hate for Toronto was even bigger.

More so, Sidney wanted to be in Phil’s good list as soon as he could.

The party wasn’t small or quiet, but seeing so many familiar faces comforted him.

Also, Sidney was a fan of seeing their teammate’s children and, for some reason, friends like Duper loved to hand him small children. He didn’t really care. Geno would confess to him, years later, when both of them are looking at their own child sleeping on Sidney’s arms, that he loves seeing that genuine happiness on Sidney’s face.

It was hours later when he felt it.

He had been sitting down with Alex asleep on his lap, head resting on his chest. Geno and Phil got along quickly, so they were discussing something that had Tanger laughing about the subject. Duper was sitting next to him, adding silly commentary that made Tanger laugh even harder.

Sidney had been just enjoying the moment when it happened.

Suddenly, he felt a shiver running up his bones, leaving goosebumps behind. It was overwhelming, like having many visions and being in different places quickly. Sidney couldn’t really distinguish what was happening until–

Until he was there. The teal crowd surrounding them, himself standing in the ice with Kuni’s hand on his shoulder. In front of them, Gary Bettman was standing next to the Cup, always gorgeous and imposing. Sidney felt himself skate forward, shaking hands and then, the Cup was being handed it him; thirty-four pounds never weighted less. He stepped to the ice and lifted the–

It was Phil the first to realize that something was wrong.

“Uh, Sidney?” He asked, seeing how his captain tensed up suddenly, and that got the attention from the people in the room. Phil saw Geno leave his beer on the table, Tanger take away Alex from his captain’s hands and Duper sit beside him. Fear bubbled on Phil’s chest because, what was happening? Had this happen before?

“Sid,” Geno called, his hands falling softly on Sidney’s own, carefully, before holding them. “Sidney.”

He came back, startled, and Geno’s own hands stopped Sidney’s from hurting himself. “Geno, oh my god.”

“Are you okay?” Phil asked over Geno. He didn’t remember getting up but his felt his heart on his throat. His hand was on his pocket, holding his phone tightly, just in case.

What no one was expecting was Sidney’s smile, wide and bright. “This year is going to be amazing, oh god,” he laughed softly, relaxing his grip on Geno’s hands, before looking at all of them. “I promise. This is year is going to be brighter and, I don’t know.” Sidney blinked a few times. “Louder. It’s going to be louder.”

He had heard around the league that Crosby was, in time to time, odd. Very odd. Phil just never thought he would be _that_ odd.

The team acted so normal about it, as if it had happened before. But, when they were sure Sidney was alright and left him go to the kitchen, they made Phil promise to not say anything. Now, he was sure the whole Pittsburgh Penguins were strange. He wasn’t sure if he should be worried about it.

But, if he wanted it or not, those words got burned into Phil’s mind.

At first, it didn’t seem like they were going far.

By the end of November, the games they managed to win didn’t feel like such and the losses felt heavier than supposed to. Sometimes Phil would get upset at Sidney, even when he haven’t done anything and was struggling himself. Where was that bright and wonderful year that he voiced? At the rate things were going, they weren’t even going to make it to the playoffs.

Then, the news hit: Mike Johnston had been fired. Phil wondered.

When they lost the first four games under Mike Sullivan’s direction, Phil shot daring looks at Sidney and wondered.

When they lost Dupuis, Phil saw how heartbroken was the team and wondered.

When changes were made, when players went and came, when they started winning and they felt like such, Phil wondered.

“Sidney’s best captain in whole league,” Geno told him once. The team had been out drinking after a big game in Detroit. Phil looked back at him, frowning, even when he knew he had been caught starting at their captain. Sidney was sitting a few tables away, cheeks pink and soft expression on his face. He was sitting between the French Canadiens, the rookies on the other side of the table. Flower came over with shots, _all for my favourite rookies!_ was what he announced loudly over the music. 

“Sid’s always right,” Geno added.

“Is he?” Phil asked, curious. “He says weird stuff and he’s always right?”

Geno drank what was left of his beer before answering. “Not weird. Just very special” and Geno smiled and left, saying he was going to the bar to buy the shots he promised Phil at the beginning of the night.

The playoffs came and Sidney’s words permeated Phil’s hockey, even more when the wins got them closer and closer to the Cup. He wanted to do anything for the team, for his teammates, and for a city that treated him way nicer than Toronto. He wanted to do it for his family, and for himself.

He had many reasons.

Then, the moment came. Phil looked up at the clock from the bench and stopped wondering.

Sidney sent the puck flying to the other side of the rink and that was it.

Phil was out of the bench as soon as he physically could, skating towards the pile of people jumping on Matt. He was crying before he knew. Phil found Sidney and brought him into his arms, hugging him a little too long, and his cheeks, too bright, and the crowd, too loud. Seeing the Cup being raised when you’re surrounded by the guys who had made it all possible, was an incredible feeling. What it was more amazing, was that the person lifting the Cup was your captain, the same one who promised an incredible year.

Phil left the locker room, a few minutes into the celebration, trying to find a quiet place where he could take a call.

He turned around the corner and stopped on his tracks. There he found Sidney and Geno hugging each other, holding each other as if they were going to disappear. They were talking softly and Sidney laughed, wet but lovely, before pressing a gentle kiss on Geno’s cheek. Phil had walked on people making out, even fucking, but this felt ten times more intimate than that. Geno smiled at him at him when he told them later –after Mario’s party, when all of them were already parting ways. Sidney blushed bright red but there was a big smile on his face.

“Hey, Sid,” Phil continued, serious. “Remember the party before camp? When you said that weird thing of a good year.”

Sidney nodded. “Yeah, what about it?”

“Uh, well.” He was very sure about what he wanted to say, just not how. He didn’t think this through. “Just. I, uh, I didn’t believe you, okay? At first, I thought you were just crazy.” Sidney laughed. “But, god, man, you fucking proved it wrong.”

“Tell you, Sid most special,” Geno said, arm wrapping around Sidney’s shoulder, casually.

Phil laughed. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway,” he shifted his feet. “I guess what I’m trying to say it’s that I’ll follow you. While I can, at least. You’re an incredible captain.”

Sidney smiled, soft and warm. “Thank you, Phil. You’re pretty great, too.”

 

x

 

The night of game 3 against Ottawa, Flower roomed with Sidney.

They lost the game and it wasn’t fun, no one was happy with the outcome or the way they played.

Sidney had been nice enough to give him the room to himself so he could call Vero, the only person who could keep him grounded. He was more upset at himself than at their coach, their forwards or their defensemen –and really, could you blame either of them? Flower knew he was being hard on himself, everyone has bad games.

The thing was, this was probably his last game in net.

Flower knew that it could be the last time he played for the team that drafted him, the team he had help give two Cups to, the team he had learned to love on good and bad times.

He was being hard with himself, but he never imagined Sidney taking it to heart.

Flower noticed something was off with his Captain when he returned from hanging out in Geno’s room. He wasn’t sure if it was the slow walk or the hunched shoulders, but his instinct kicked in when he wondered if it could be a concussion symptom. Even when it was improbable, since Geno would never let this type of thing happen.

“Hey, Sid,” he said, getting up from his spot in the bed and walking over Sid’s bed, where his best friend had been sitting quietly at the foot of the bed for a while. He pressed his hand on his shoulder and that seemed to break Sidney, unfocused eyes and all. Flower might be lying if he said that was the first time he saw Sidney cry, but it was the first time he had broken down in that manner.

“It’s not fair,” he sobbed, nose red and tears trickling down his cheeks. He took short breathes, as if he was trying to compose himself and failing at it, all in the same moment. “It’s just not fair.”

“ _Sid, it’s alright,_ ” Flower comforted him, his french rolling out of his tongue without thinking. He sat down next to him and pulled into a hug, cradling him close. Sidney kept repeating over and over the words. In the way he said it, with a waver on his voice and a deeply hurt tone, it took the best out of Flower to not cry himself. The goalie was already thinking in calling Geno when Sidney started to calm down.

That night, both of them slept on the same bed. Sidney kept his hand resting lightly on Flower’s arm.

The next morning, Geno observed how heartbroken he was and shot a confused look at Flower.

It was a few hours later when he managed to find a minute to stand up next to his goalie, who was leaning on the net. “What happen? Sid look awful,” Geno commented, looking at Flower with a confused expression. Flower explained what happened, but he couldn’t really answer why Sidney was really crying. “And he say to you?”

“Yeah, why?” Flower asked back.

Geno swallowed and shook his head, before lying. “Don’t know. Sid look fine when he leave my room.”

Flower noticed the undertone but let it pass.

After their playoff run, when the summer sun was already shining down in Pittsburgh, the call came.

In that moment, after Flower finished talking with Jim, who told him he had been given to the Las Vegas expansion and thanked him sincerely after many years of great accomplishment in the club, Flower understood. He realized that Sidney wasn’t crying because he had been taken out of the game but, somehow, cried because of a bigger loss.

The next few days were a blur for him, telling his family, figuring out life, and saying goodbyes to his teammates.

He left Sidney for last.

Geno was at Sidney’s house, and was who opened the front door for him. “Oh,” he said. “Captain’s turn?”

“Yeah, it’s time,” Flower said and Geno only nodded.

Sidney was in the kitchen and greeted him with a tight hug. Geno pressed a quick kiss to Sidney’s temple and retreated to the backyard, leaving them alone. It was strange seeing them be that gentle with each other, but Flower didn’t say anything about it.

“So, this is it,” he started, a toothy smile on his face. “It was great while it lasted, you –could you stop looking at me like that, Crosby _?_ ”

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” Sidney sighed and looked down at the floor, hands on his hips. “It’s just. It’s going to be so weird not having you around, you know? After, so many  years.”

“Yeah, well, it’s okay. I know I’m special but I gave Geno my blessing to sit down beside you on the plane.” Flower commented and his smile feel down when Sidney didn’t smile back and just looked sadder. He sighed deeply. “Sid. It’s really okay, we knew it was going happen. You have a great team and the city loves you. Also, you have Matt _fucking_ Murray and, let me tell you, he’s amazing now. Imagine what he can do in a few years down the road.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.”

 “ _Believe me,”_ Flower started him in French. He pressed his hand on Sidney’s nape tenderly and Sidney smiled. It reminded of something Jack used to do, what Geno does sometimes to comfort him –it seemed like it had been passed over to the people he loved. “ _You’re a great captain. You’re just the most extraordinary player in the world. I’m just very glad I get to call you my best friend.”_ Sidney looked at him with damp eyes and Flower pulled him into a tight hug.

Sidney buried his face on Flower’s neck. “I love you, Flower. Thank you for everything.”

“I love you, too.” They pulled away, their hands still holding each other arms and bittersweet smiles on their faces. “I’ll miss you.”

“Yeah, fuck,” Sidney replied, moving away and cleaning his face. “Me too.”

“Come by the house tomorrow to say goodbye to the girls. Vero would never forgive you if you didn’t. We also accept if you want to bring your Russian bear.” Sidney laughed and nodded, promising he would go. “Aaaaand, I’m expecting my girls to get birthday and Christmas gifts from their favourite uncle, okay? Don’t disappoint them, I didn’t raise you like that.”

Sidney laughed again, sounding wetter than before. “I won’t forget.”

There was a sound from the backyard, the door opening and closing. Flower jiggled his keys and both of them walked outside to the front of the house, stopping next to the car in the driveway. “One more thing,” Flower said, his keys hanging from the door lock.

“Sure,” Sidney nodded, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I never told you but I’m glad you’re with G,” he confessed. “You’re happier, he’s happier, too.”

Sidney smiled at him, red cheeked. “Thank you. He, he’s ridiculous and I love him, just like that.”

“You’re also ridiculous, _mon capitaine_ ,” Flower said, patting Sidney’s cheek playfully. “ _I’ll send you my new address. I won’t miss your wedding for anything in the world._ ” He opened the door of his car and winked at Sidney before leaving.

When he walked into the house, he found Geno lying on the couch, phone in hand. Sidney didn’t think twice before lying beside him, hiding his face on Geno’s neck. Geno let his phone fall to his chest and held him closer, his lips pressing on Sidney’s hair. They were in silence when Geno saw something moving out of the window.

Flowers. It was raining pink flowers.

Geno took a deep breath before saying anything. “Are you doing this, _solnyshko_?”

Sidney moved to look out of the window before cuddling closer to Geno, his head resting on top of Geno’s. “Who knows.”

When Geno saw the backyard the next morning, the flowers weren’t there anymore.

 

x

 

Sidney was born on a cold, windy day in August. Wide eyed and silent, observing everything around him.

He got used to living things twice, of looking at the world with knowledge. He got used to sensations surrounding him without reason, to emotions overwhelming him without explanation and to sounds that seemed far way but so close. There was nothing in his world that happened and he wasn’t prepared for it.

The feeling of surprise was a foreign language he wasn’t fluid in, an unknown country on his map.

So, when Geno showed him the small, velvety box, Sidney didn’t know what to do.

They had been lying on their bed, a slow night after an afternoon game.

Geno was icing his aching knee and, since he had to stay in one place, he decided to start reading one of the Russian books he got in their summer trip. He was reading aloud since Sidney started to actually learn Russian and he could even maintain short conversations in Geno’s mother language. Sidney was mumbling to himself, icing his own ankle, repeating the words slowly when he noticed that Geno had stopped. “Hey,” Sidney called.

“Sid?” He hummed.

“Yeah?” When Geno didn’t say anything, Sidney sat down on the bed, looking at him with a confused expression.

Geno observed him for a moment. Sidney was wearing Geno’s shirt, a little big on the shoulders, and some shorts. His hair was a mess, for lying around when it was still wet. He also looked younger, since he was freshly shaved, but there was some sharpness on his jaw and his eyes that came with the years.

He was also playing nervously with the golden chair around his neck, looking at Geno expectantly.

In that moment and to Geno’s eyes, Sidney looked like a god among men and he thought that he couldn’t be luckier.

“You say, long ago, you think I’m too good to be true. Say I’m one of best thing in your life,” he started and then Geno paused for a moment. “After silly fight, you say afraid of losing me, and I think, no, like. Why afraid? I’m not going, I’m stay with him. I’m want to stay, if Sid wants,” there was a soft pause before Geno looked at Sidney. “I’m want Sidney to be mine.”

Sidney was sitting there, looking at him with warm expression. “God, Geno. I’m-”

“No, shhhh. I’m not finish,” Geno stopped him, finger pressing on Sidney’s lips and he just laughed, nodding. “Then last night I make a big decision. Maybe weird for Russia, never play on team again. Maybe difficult for papa and mama, for family. Maybe life not same but I think, I can lose everything but not Sid, because you make me happy. Happiest. So I’m want to be with Sidney.” There was a pause before he started moving. “Now, stay here.”

“What?” Sidney asked, still confused, not sure if what was happening was what _he_ thought was happening. Geno got up from the bed, even when Sidney was complaining that he shouldn’t be moving, he should be icing his knee still. “What are you doing?”

Geno was kneeling on the side of the bed, roaming around the nightstand drawer. From there, he got out a small box. Sidney’s breath got caught on his chest and he passed a hand through his face, as if he didn’t believe what he was seeing. Geno sat down beside him, one hand holding the box and the other, resting softly on Sidney’s chest. “Sid, need to breathe.”

“Geno,” Sidney said and when he saw tears falling from Sidney’s eyes, he got worried.

Both of them probably looked like a mess. “What’s wrong?”

“You,” he laughed. “You caught me by surprised. I never _saw_ this coming.”

“I surprise you,” Geno said after a moment, understanding what Sidney was saying. “Sid, I, I can’t believe.” Sidney laughed, his hands finding Geno’s. He let himself lean onto Geno, trying to catch his breath. They were like that for a while, just leaning on each other. Geno then moved, leaving the small box resting on the bed, to then caress Sidney’s cheeks, his thumbs rubbing away the streaks that the tears had left. “So,” Geno said, holding Sidney’s face softly between his hands. “You marry me?”

“You have thought this through? Like, you know what’s going to happen after we do it, after it’s legal,” Sidney asked back, his own hands on top of Geno’s, looking serious. “Promise me that… that you won’t regret it.”

“Sidyuska.” Geno looked at him and shook his head, before answering. “I think about this hard, many times. For months! Not easy but worth it,” he said, pressing a soft kiss into Sidney’s lips. “So worth it.”

“Okay. Okay, okay,” Sidney replied. He sat down straight, cross legged on the bed, before he smiled brightly. “Ask me again.”

Geno smiled back, grabbing the box and opening it, showing Sidney the ring. “Sid, marry me? Make me happy? Let me make you happy?” He took the ring out of the box, then took Sidney’s right hand.

“Is the other one,” Sidney whispered to him and Geno grumbled under his breath. Both of them laughed before Sidney took a deep breath and answered. “Yes, I want to be with you, too.”

“Yes? Really sure? Not going to divorce because I steal peanut butter sandwich or have bad breath in the morning,” Geno asked and Sidney pushed him lightly. “I joke, Sid.”

“You’re the worst,” and with that, Sidney pressed his lips against Geno’s while Geno put the ring clumsily on Sidney’s finger, without looking. “I love you.”

“ _Love you too,”_ replied Geno back in Russian. He kissed Sidney deeply and felt just as amazing as the first time.

Maybe Sidney had been born observing everything around him, knowing everything around him. Later, months later, Sidney would realize that the universe let him pick this path in life. All the things he saw where destined to be: his family, his career, his friends, his concussion, the Cups, the good and the bad. They were all meant to be.

But Geno.

Sidney never saw a vision that told him he was going to be with him, the universe never told him who he was going to fall in love with. He realized that love was the only matter that was on his hands: Sidney had picked Geno and Geno had picked Sidney, they were just naturally meant to be. Geno had always been his constant, his own small decision that grew into many more possibilities.

And in that moment, when Geno returned to the bedroom with a cheesecake in one hand and two cold pads in the other, mumbling something along the lines of _should celebrate with sex, not with cake_ , Sidney knew that all the visions led him there, led him to a future with the person who loved the most.

And he didn’t regret it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. in case you missed it, the ten predictions are for Trina, Jack, Mario, Duper, Kuni, Tanger, Chris Stewart, Bylsma, Phil, and Flower.  
> 2\. i concentrated so much in Sidney’s injuries that i forgot about everyone else, so let’s ignore these loopholes.  
> 3\. Jack had such a small role on my brain but when i started writing, i kind of fell in love with him. my bad.  
> 4\. this fic is a "Sid feels things, is afraid of making a move/Geno feels things, is the one making the move".  
> 5\. the Mario story about the Cup ending up in the bottom of his pool, it's true. You can find it [here.](http://www.nbcsports.com/video/nhl-legends-and-importance-winning-stanley-cup)  
> 6\. this was finished after the pens won the conference final, so i didn't want to many any predictions about what is going to happen in the final.  
> 7\. once again, english is not my mother language, so if i fucked up anything, please tell me!!  
> 8\. **fun fact** : this whole thing is based in a character, Colonel Aureliano Buendía, of Gabriel García Márquez book, One Hundred Years of Solitude. he has premonitions about the future that are, most of the time, true. it’s a latin-american classic that i got around to read early this year and fell in love with it, it's incredible. 
> 
> i'm [speaksarcastically](http://speaksarcastically.tumblr.com/) in tumblr!! come yell at me if you want.


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